


Disappointing

by Corvidae_Corvus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Implied Relationships, Likely AU Theory, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvidae_Corvus/pseuds/Corvidae_Corvus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Moran, after Jim's suicide, is left to try and run the business. He can only last so long; he was never meant to do this alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disappointing

It was easy, in the beginning. All Sebastian had to do was keep up the ruse that Jim was alive, run it from the back, learn on the job. No one really had much contact with Jim in the first place; toward the end most of it was even through Sebastian. What else was he supposed to do? It's not like any of this was really planned, it's not like he knew Jim was going to shoot himself, it's not like he knew that he would be trying to keep his world together with the mental equivalent of Scotch tape and literal equivalent of hard drugs. 

He couldn't do this. He couldn't be both consulting criminal and hired gun, things started to slip, and they smelled blood in the water. The mob bosses, the drug lords, the weapon traffickers, everyone who had the balls and men and guns to think they could go in and take a slice of Jim's pie for themselves. The hired gun wasn't nearly as intimidating as the consulting criminal.

Sebastian's hands flew over the semiautomatics he found, hand guns mostly, but they'd take someone down at the very least. Not everyone, not by a long shot. He wasn't getting out of here alive, he had no hope of that. There was one thing that could save everything, only one because he was officially at the end of his rope. 

He couldn't save all of this, he couldn't save the company by himself. If Jim wanted the fucking company safe, he needed to come back. He needed him to come back now, right now, just that one thing. For months he almost half expected to see Jim lounging in his flat again, grinning like a cat, congratulating Sebastian on a job well done in keeping the company going and tucking it into bed at night. Those would be his words, not Sebstian's. And then he would punch Jim. And then they'd fuck. At least that's how it went in Sebastin's head. 

He tried. It surprised himself to get this far in the first place, but this was one job he wouldn't be able to do. He was never supposed to do this, this wasn't in his contract, so if Jim wanted his fucking company intact, he needed to come back now... yes, fucking now Jim!

It was here that Sebastian realized he had started to talk to himself as he growled the last few words loudly in frustration. Maybe the people killing off the rest of his men heard him, maybe they would think Jim had come back. Of course not though, he wasn't able to convince anyone that Jim was alive anymore. Not even himself. 

Sebastian finished the last gun, three in all, all fully loaded and he brought a hand up to wipe at the sweat on his face. Maybe he had tears on his face as well; did he? He hadn't really noticed. It didn't matter though, his eyes had stopped stinging a little and it was easier to see. They were almost at the door.

Sebastian tucked one gun in a holster, something he had as often as he had on trousers ever since working for Jim, and he ducked into a hallway to hide himself from the immediate gunfire. He was panting, but he wasn't afraid of the men, the guns, potentially dying. He was afraid of failing, and for the first time in a long time. It wasn't likely that he would be able to save this. Less than likely. Impossible by himself. He lightly thunked his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes tight once more, swallowing and once more murmuring out loud.

"Please Jim. I fucking admit it, I can't do this job, this one fucking job, so if you want it done you have to come back. Just this. I don't ask for shit, just to be paid and do my job, I don't ask for shit. Just once, I'm asking. Come back. Or nothing's left. Like you were never real and never Jim Moriarty but some John Doe who tricked the press into thinking he was an actor. So come back. Just stop this..."

There was a pounding on the door, they were trying to get in now that they figured out the door couldn't be shot through. It seemed to wake up Sebastian and he opened his eyes and knew. He wouldn't be getting a miracle. He was never meant to. There was no hope now, and for the hundredth time since working for Jim, he wondered why he remained. There was actually nothing here now, nothing left, he could try to escape and let it all fall. But even now, with nothing but a very empty hope, he would rather fight for a memory than abandon it. He would still rather be here than anywhere else.

They finally were able to kick the door down, bust it out from the hinges and Sebastian took a breath. He was still immediately able to slip into that head space, and as one came from around the corner Sebastian lifted his gun and fired at the head; only place to shoot as it was obvious to him they wore kevlar. Smart when fighting a marksman, but not enough to save them all.

Sebastian stepped into the main room, both guns out and firing. He still tried, he wouldn't not try. There were multiple splatters of blood as Sebastian worked two guns, some return fire as he moved to different cover. He felt a sudden burning at his side, making him grunt but not yet fall. He got to the other hallway, one gun out of bullets and the other low. He tossed it to the side, pulling out the extra and shot another man that came around. He could feel heat leaking down his side, and then another burst of pain near his chest. That was a better shot from them.

Sebastian stumbled back against the desk, another burst of pain. He lifted the gun, hand shaking just barely, shot someone else. Until there was one more bullet put in Sebastian and his hand fell to the ground, gun clattering to the floor. He could barely focus now, and he glanced around in a daze. 

From what he could tell, there were eight bodies, and he knew there were more. He wanted to feel proud almost, he wanted to feel like he did well. But he hadn't. He'd lost, failed. He was supposed to be the best, and all he could think about as someone seemed to be turning off the lights was how fucking disappointed Jim must be.


End file.
